The Resistance Gallery resists becoming a gig venue
- although it would make a pretty good one.

This Bethnal Green railway
arch hosts everything from weird art to Mexican wrestling (also something
of a weird art, as it happens). But bands...not so much.

Psydoll,
however, being nothing if not a weird art project themselves, get under
the wire without even bending down. Tonight they're the top attraction
at a mini-carnival of bizarre etertainment, more or less with a Japanese
theme.

The Yokai Demon Drummers definitely have a Japanese theme, although as
far as I can see they're not actually Japanese. They're a British taiko
drum squad - possibly the only British taiko drum squad. Stern
chaps station themselves behind an array of heavy-duty percussion with
which they proceed to make a thunderous noise.

It's exhilarating stuff, only slightly softened by the lead drummer's affable,
friendly remarks between the rampaging percussive outbursts. I half expected
him to yell at us like a warlike Samurai rallying the troops - but we just don't
do that shouty stuff in Blighty, eh, chaps?

A small surprise, incidentally: the set contains
a cover of Faith & The
Muse's 'Bushido' - a further strand of cross-fertilisation there, for anyone
who cares to join the international dots.

Vera
Bremerton stalks the stage in the company of monsters.
She's half art-house horror movie queen, half cabaret torch singer, and
her studied, arch delivery of precision-crafted melodramatic ballads would
be a fine show in itself.

But this is the Resistance Gallery, where weird
art is never far away. A supporting cast of bemasked and oddly-costumed
figures gather on stage, striking attitudes and throwing shapes
in dreamlike slo-mo. This is the Monsterlune Freakshow, a performnce-art
collective whose main purpose in life, it seems, is to keep it surreal.

The combination of Vera Bremerton's quasi-operatic
vocal swoops, and the monsters' crazily erratic physical swoops certainly
commands attention. It's like watching a Buñuel film acted out by the
cast of the Rocky Horror Show. You're never sure quite what's going on,
but you can't stop watching the tableau unfold.

Well,
I don't know about you, but what I think the evening's entertainment needs
right now is an interlude of Japanese rope bondage.

Fortunately, Miumi-u is on hand, with an entire rope locker's worth of
kit, and Gestalta, her a willing (and serenely smiling) assistant.

With a curiously
endearing air of tender deliberation, Miumi-u wraps Gestalta in a web of
elegant ropework and hauls her off the ground.

It's all done gently, diligently,
and with a lightness of touch that is genuinely charming. You wouldn't
believe that witnessing someone get tied up could be such a heartwarming
experience.

But that's enough of the heartwarming stuff. Now it's time to bring on
the robots.

The Psydoll concept - that they're animatronic automatons from
high-tech Tokyo - doesn't require quite such a drastic suspension of disbelief
as you might expect. Nekoi (vocals, keyboard, a kawaii kunoichi) and Ucchi
(guitar, goggles, an anime Biggles) do look suitably otherworldly, as they
launch into their barrelling technopop anthems.

If this is robot
pop, it's a lot of fun - but just as the show is getting into its stride
a slight crisis erupts as one of the PA speakers bursts into flames.

I'm
a big fan of pyrotechnics in a rock 'n' roll context, but its always best
to keep this stuff under controlled conditions, don't you think?

A swift
burst from a fire extinguisher, and the offending speaker is manhandled
out of the venue - no damage done (except to the speaker), and the show
goes on. But now, with only half the PA in operation, we're only getting
half the sound, and Psydoll have to work hard to make an impact.

'My Birthday'
and 'Rose Rose Rose' have all their clattering, cacophonous catchiness
intact, but the half-volume sound can't help but take the edge off. Still,
the crowd enter into the spirit of it, and against the odds the Psydoll
robo-show rolls somewhat haphazardly to close with much supportive applause.

I suppose this neatly illustrates my opening remarks: the Resistance Gallery
isn't a gig venue, and the in-house PA isn't able to cope with a band
being put through it at typical gig volume. My guess (if you'd like a bit
of instant techie analysis) is that the amp was being cranked up to the
point where the signal clipped...and clipped signals fry speakers.

Well, it all added to the excitement of the night, I suppose - but I'm
sure Psydoll would say this would never happen with Japanese robot technology.

Words and photos in Nemesis To Go by Michael Johnson are licenced under Creative Commons. You may copy and distribute this material, or derivations of it, provided that you give a credit to Michael Johnson and a link to Nemesis To Go. Where material from other sources is used, copyright remains with the original owners. All rights in the name 'Nemesis To Go' and the 'N' logo are retained.